


Talk So Lightly

by brightblackholes



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Jughead Jones, Dubious Consent, I tried to write him like that but idk if I succeeded, M/M, Non-Explicit Sexual Content, Unhealthy Relationships, is he aromantic too? who knows, the dubious consent is basically all through it, the rape/non-con is at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-26 19:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12065496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightblackholes/pseuds/brightblackholes
Summary: Jughead is used to being left to his own devices, he’s used to having his own personal bubble, and he’s used to being pushed around and insulted at school but otherwise avoided by everyone.  What he is not used to is readhead boys sliding into the booth opposite him at Pop’s when he’s trying to write and eat french fries.Or: the story of what happened to Jughead in the few months before Jason's disappearance.





	Talk So Lightly

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't watched Riverdale. Well, that's kind of a lie. I watched 4 episodes and then was like "nah," but I had already started this and it was kind of good and then I kept going and then it turned into my longest work so I had to finish it or regret it forever.  
> If there are inconsistencies between the fic and the show (which there will be, specifically in the descriptions of the Blossom house probably because I just made that stuff up because I do not care), that's why.
> 
> The rape/non-con is between two people who are in a form of a relationship. It takes place at the end (on the 2nd of July) so if that's not something you can/want to read then once it mentions the 2nd of July just skip to the next -/- and progress from there. I don't write smut or stuff having to do with sex so once the clothes come off nothing is explicitly described.
> 
> I am asexual, so Jughead's feelings about sex kind of go along with mine. I also attempted to have him be aromantic, although I do not know if I succeeded in that or not because I just kind of started writing and let stuff go from there.
> 
> I had no idea what to name this lol. The title is from "Sick of Losing Soulmates" by Dodie, because I love Dodie and I just need words to go up in the title box at this point I don't even care if it fits or not. It's literally the last thing I'm sticking in and then this bad boy is getting published.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy reading this mess about half as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Jughead is used to being left to his own devices, he’s used to having his own personal bubble, and he’s used to being pushed around and insulted at school but otherwise avoided by everyone. What he is not used to is readhead boys sliding into the booth opposite him at Pop’s when he’s trying to write and eat french fries.

For half a second, Jughead has the naive hope that it’s Archie, that this drought of contact that has been present since the summer after middle school when Archie hit puberty and got interested in football and girls and Jughead hit puberty and got interested in dark writing and cheeseburgers has finally lifted. Archie still talks to him, and they still get together, but it all is scheduled now, and Archie hasn’t randomly wandered down to Pop’s to sit with him since October.

Jughead thinks he’s seeing things when he glances up from his computer and instead finds Jason Blossom looking back at him.

Jason Blossom. Riverdale’s own Red King. The antichrist. The person who is in charge of the football neanderthals who push Jughead into lockers and dunk his head in toilets every week.

Jughead stares for maybe a moment too long before looking back to his computer and trying to seem engrossed in his writing rather than waiting for whatever fresh hell has caused a Blossom twin to approach him outside of school.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“Your attention, first of all,” Jason says, and then closes the top of Jughead’s laptop. Jughead barely moves his fingers out of the way in time.

“Hey!”

“I like eye contact when talking to people,” Jason says, his mouth is shaped in a well-practiced smirk.

“Well I don’t particularly like talking to people, so spit it out and leave me alone,” he bites back. Jason raises his eyebrows and his smirking intensifies, if possible. Jughead feels like this is a moment that will make his entire life go to shit This is Gatsby’s car crash, Atticus accepting the Boo Radley case, Romeo and Juliet locking eyes across a crowded party room. Everything that follows is just going to be the hellish aftermath.

“I hear you have a drug connection,” Jason says.

“You heard wrong,” Jughead counters, moving to open his laptop again. Jason puts his hand on the lid to stop him.

“I didn’t hear wrong. I have the money, you have the means. I want you to be my supplier through the summer.” Jason’s gaze is intense, burning pinpricks of fire through Jughead’s face. It’s unsettling, to say the least.

“Ask one of your football goons. I’m sure some of them have better connections than me and would be much more willing to do you bidding.” Jughead attempts to open his computer again, but Jason closes it again and pulls it across the table. Jughead sighs through his nose and finally brings his full attention to the other boy.

“What’s in it for me?” he asked, because hell if he isn’t getting something out of this exchange.

“I’ll pay double, half for the drugs and half for you to keep yourself, not whoever supplies you. Then you get the benefit of my company every week,” he smirks.

“That’s not a benefit,” Jughead replies, picking up a french fry and chewing on it before continuing. “I want something else, too. You keep your friends away from me for the last few weeks of this year, then all of next year. I’m done putting up with your guy’s crap every day. No more stealing my notebooks or throwing food at me in the lunchroom. Diplomatic immunity, if you will.”

Jason smiles, and Jughead is hit with the image of a lion hunting an antelope. This guy is going to eat him alive is he isn’t careful.

“Deal.”

Jason holds out his hand, and Jughead sighs and takes it, against his better judgment. Jason’s smile grows, but looks no less predatory.

“I’ll give you the money tomorrow, have the weed for me by the day after.” Jughead nods mutely and pulls his hand away. He pulls his laptop to him and starts typing nonsensical phrases, just to make him appear busy. He can feel Jason’s eyes lingering for a moment too long before he leaves.

 

**-/-**

 

The next day, Jason gives him the money, all cash, and Jughead has to go through the awkward procedure of trading it to his dad for weed. He doesn’t ask why Jughead is buying, or warn him against the negative effects of smoking marijuana, especially when he’s young and his brain isn’t fully developed, or any of those other things that a father is supposed to do. It doesn’t really bother Jughead anymore. He takes it as a testament to his independence, rather than his father’s neglect.

Sometimes, though, late at night, all he wants is to have Jellybean next to him, just so he knows for sure that she’s somewhere safe, with food in her stomach and a place to rest her head. Just so that he can pretend that he’s alright, too.

 

**-/-**

 

“Forsythe” Jason greets him when they meet the next night, back behind Pop’s, where the neon lights don’t reach. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Jason smirks again, and Jughead wonders if he’d be beheaded for punching it off his face.

He tosses Jason the weed, stays when Jason asks him too because his only previous plans include going to the Drive-In and camping out since there’s no movie showing that night. Jason lights a joint and blows smoke into the air. Jughead doesn’t smoke, prefers to keep his wits about him and watch other people do stupid shit instead of doing it himself, but there’s something appealing about seeing other people do it, and how Jason’s eyes glaze over a bit and his smirk softens when he blows smoke rings in Jughead’s face.

At some point, Jason puts his hand down Jughead’s pants. Jughead isn’t sure how, or why, or how he feels about it, but he doesn’t tell Jason to stop. Dimly, in the back of his mind, he thinks that he should probably have a stronger reaction than apathy, but the situation is surreal enough that he wants to see how it plays out.

Jason smiles against his neck, breath hot and wet. Jughead tugs at his hair, just a little, just because it’s softer than he thought and it’s something to hold on to.

 

**-/-**

 

“Why do you never take your beanie off?” Jason asks next week, when he’s biting a mark on Jughead’s collarbone in the back of his ridiculous red mustang.

“Why does your hair look like it came from a bottle from a 7-11?” he bites back. Jason smirks. He’s always smirking.

“You have quite the mouth on you, Forsythe.”

“Don’t expect it to do anything other than talking, Flower-Power. I’m not touching your dick.” Jason huffs out a laugh, and moves lower, and Jughead doesn’t stop him.

 

**-/-**

 

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Archie says as he slides into the booth across from him. Jughead glances up from his computer and the stream-of-conscience mess that he’s writing on it to the All-American Golden Boy whom he had thought stood him up yet again.

“You’re late, you’re buying,” he replies, and Archie apologizes again and makes an excuse about studying for finals with Betty and losing track of time, and Jughead forgives him like it’s not the 100th time something like this has happened, because it’s Archie, and Jughead would probably forgive him for mass murder if he had to. Some relationships are like that. Archie has always been the main character: Jughead and Betty are just the best friend and love interest, the side characters in his narrative. The story will always first be about Archie, and Jughead will play his part as well as he can before he’s recast.

“So what’s new with you?” Archie asks, stealing one of his fries because Jughead’s boundaries when it comes to food have never applied to him and making eye contact with the waitress so he can put his own order in. (Jughead already told her what Archie would want, because his food choice is as predictable and repetitive as Jughead’s. One would think that Archie would have caught on to that by now, but he’s about as oblivious as they come.)

Jughead makes a few sarcastic comments about things teachers did in the classes he doesn’t share with Archie and avoids mentioning anything about his home life. Archie still hasn’t caught on, and while he doesn’t really want anyone to know, it also would be nice for someone to notice.

When Jason Blossom enters the diner, Jughead resolutely does not make eye contact with him, although he can feel the other boy’s eyes on him the entire time.

 

**-/-**

 

“What’s going on between you and Andrews?” Jason asks next time. Jughead stops contemplating the meaningful look Jason had given him in the hallway earlier this week and furrows his brows.

“Why do you ask so many questions?”

“Why do you never answer them?”

“Because it’s my job to know other people’s business, not their job to know mine.” He anticipates the smirk and isn’t disappointed.

“Do you have secrets to hide, Forsythe?”

“We live in an idyllic small town. Everyone has secrets to hide. Do you want to divulge some of yours?” Despite his sarcasm and against his better judgement, he actually is very curious about Jason and what goes on in the inner circles of his mind.

“Contrary to popular belief, I actually had feelings for Polly.”

Jughead is taken aback by the admission, but more so by the open, honest expression on Jason’s face.

The whole town knows that Jason manipulated Polly, tricked her into falling in love with him and then left her high and dry after only a few weeks of leading her on. It was a toxic relationship from the start: her grades apparently started slipping, she was pulling away from family and friends to spend more and more time and energy on him, and she started sneaking out and night and not caring about any consequences. Jughead had to listen to Archie talk about it with pinched eyes, always worrying over Betty and the effect it was having on her.

The ordeal caused Polly to have a complete mental break and be sent to a group home. Rumor has it that not even Betty has had contact with her since.

Jughead hadn’t thought Jason was capable of a human emotion like affection, especially when everyone said he was unaffected by the ordeal.

“I’m pretty sure Archie is only hanging around me out of habit and abandonment guilt, not because we actually have a friendship anymore.”

As soon as the words are out, he wants to take them back, but he felt like he owed Jason something for the secret he divulged, and he didn’t actually know it was true until he voiced it out loud.

The road trip they had been planning since 5th grade was quite possibly the only thing keeping Archie from throwing him out with yesterday’s gum wrappers.

“Fuck him,” Jason says, then gets in the car. “Come on. I want a beer.”

Jughead doesn’t drink, either, for the same reasons he doesn’t smoke, but the headlights from the car glisten off the moisture on Jason’s lip when he has a bottle in his hand, and Jughead follows him to the river and throws rocks into the black water and trades sarcastic comments and silence until the sky lightens and pink starts to invade the deep indigo.

Jason offers him a ride home, and he actually seems genuine, with no ulterior motives, although he’s still smirking. Jughead refuses and the sound of the convertible peeling away from the gravel road follows him back to the Twilight and invades his few hours of sleep.

 

**-/-**

 

The school year ends with little fanfare. Jughead knows he passed all his classes with no less than a B, but the joy and freedom that everyone else feels is hard to conjure when he’s wondering what to do now that he can’t get government-issued free lunch.

He gets a text that morning. Jughead doesn’t know when Jason put his number in, doesn’t remember ever letting him get his hands on his cheap, pay-by-the-minute flip phone. Somehow, though, it doesn’t surprise him.

From **Jason** : _Huge party tonight at reggies. be there_

To **Jason** : _What if I have plans?_

From **Jason** : _Overheard andrews say he was hanging with betty tonight. you don’t have plans_

It makes Jughead uncomfortable that the part of his life that includes Jason and the part of his life that includes Archie have intersected in this way, when he was really hoping he could keep them separate, like oil and water. It’s also infuriating that Jason thinks he doesn’t have any sort of life outside redhead teenage boys, but Jughead really didn’t have plans, and if this is the moment where Jason somehow exploits what they’ve been doing and embarasses him in front of the whole school, he might as well get it over with.

(What _have_ they been doing? Jughead isn’t sure what to call it.)

The party is loud and crowded and full of teens making out and everything else Jughead hates about high school. He stays out of people’s way and goes unnoticed, which is a blessing and mostly due to the fact that he is good at blending in and is probably one of the youngest kids there. Why so many upperclassmen showed up to a party at Reggie’s house is beyond him.

He spots Jason about 10 minutes after his extremely late arrival, surrounded by football players and river vixens. When they make eye contact, Jason’s lips quirk up and he inclines his head towards the back door. Jughead grabs a handful of chips sitting on the counter and goes outside to find a secluded spot and wait.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show, Forsythe,” Jason says a few minutes later. Jughead doesn’t bother to turn and face him.

“Well, it’s not like I actually wanted to come,” he replies. Jason steals one of his chips and Jughead protests, but he knows it’s useless. Jason Blossom takes what Jason Blossom wants, and no one can actually stop him.

They ditch the party in favor of the open roads surrounding Riverdale, cruising with the top down. Jughead is bemused at how familiar the interior of Jason’s car now is. It is impeccable on the outside, just like everything with the Blossoms, but there are candy wrappers and a half-eaten bag of generic, gas-station lifesavers in the glove compartment.

Jason is a fan of driving double the speed limit. Jughead has to hang on to his beanie as the force pushes him all the way back in his seat. Neither of them have a seat belt on, and Jughead marvels at this life-defying moment, whooping in the car of a Blossom twin at a speed faster than his heartbeat, breath stolen by the wind.

Jason eventually parks by the river and something about his flushed cheeks and wild hair has Jughead permit him to suck him off in the back seat. All together it’s an interesting experience: not unpleasant, but not necessarily something he’s itching to do again.

When the night finally ends, Jughead has Jason drive him to Pop’s, pulling up out back where the first deal was made. When he gets back to the Twilight, he changes Jason’s name in his phone to Flower Power, just because he can and because he _knows_ Jason has him listed as Forsythe despite how much he hates it, and then falls asleep.

 

**-/-**

 

There’s a movie scheduled at the drive in the next time they would usually meet for Jason to give Jughead the money for his weekly drugs. Jughead doesn’t even think he smokes it all. Not even rich boys could be that bored. It makes him feel like he has a rock in his stomach when he thinks of what it might mean if Jason is just making excuses now. If they’re not an addict and his dealer, what are they?

It’s not friendship. Being around Jason is easy simply because he knows the other boy doesn’t expect anything of him. Archie expects him to be a good listener, and a good friend, and to have good advice ready and always be waiting, even if Archie isn’t always there for him. Jason just expects him to be there with the drugs. Jughead is always the one who makes the decision to stick around. Jason’s eyes light up a little bit every time he does in delight and slight surprise. It’s a small thing, something only someone used to observing would notice, but it’s there.

Jughead is engrossed in watching _The Wizard of Oz_ for the millionth time when the door to the operating booth opens. He’s springs up, ready to punch a particularly bold Snake in the nose, or yell at the civilian who dared to pick the lock and try to break into the projector booth of the Twilight, a curse on the tip of his tongue.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he spits. Jason smirks back, and half of the fire in Jughead dies to a smolder.

“Watching _The Wizard of Oz_ , obviously. What are you doing?”

“Wondering why you picked the lock to the projector booth and how I can get you to leave.”

Jason laughs, and Jughead almost smiles. His genuine laugh is a rare sound, something that Jughead tries to commit to memory just so he can say he experienced it.

“I wanted to get you the money and see the workings behind the drive-in. Despite how many times I’ve been here, I’ve never gotten into the projector booth before.” Jason begins wandering around the small space, tilting his head to look at the labels on the reels. Jughead appreciates how he doesn’t actually touch any of them. It’s surprisingly respectful for someone who is used to doing anything they want and feels entitled to just about anything because he his family has money.

Jughead glances at the cot in the corner. He threw a blanket on it earlier, which covers it a bit, but with the meticulous way Jason is inspecting the booth he knows that he’ll see and put the pieces together.

“I do actually have work and a paying job to do, so I’ll meet you outside if you stick around after the movie,” Jughead says, trying to hide the mounting panic over being found out with his usual sarcasm and hands in pockets. Jason glances at him briefly and goes back to inspecting the reels.

“Are you worried I’ll be too distracting?” he asks. Jughead can hear the smirk rather than see it.

“If you try anything in here I will eviscerate you. Do not defile my holy house of cinema.”

“You probably shouldn’t wander through the audience then. It’s a rite of passage to hook up at the Twilight.”

“Not in my projector booth, it’s not,” he snaps, and Jason holds his hands up in a pacifying gesture, although his gaze is still fixed on the movie reels.

“Don’t worry, your precious projector booth is safe for now.”

Jason is shifting closer and closer to the cot, and soon he’ll be eye level with the picture Jughead keeps on display of him and Jellybean. The panic in Jughead’s gut rises to his throat, clawing to escape.

“Seriously, Jason, get out. I’ll meet you after.”

This causes Jason to actually face him, frowning.

“What crawled up your ass?” he asks, but there’s more curiosity than offense in his words. It throws Jughead off guard for a moment before he can recover and find other words.

“I don’t like other people in the booth. Not even Archie is allowed in.” It’s true. When Jughead first began working, Archie would ask if he could tag along to see how everything worked, and Jughead would always say no, partially because of the tell-tale cot in the corner, and partially because he wanted something for his own. The Twilight was his home now, and while he had to share the facilities with everyone else, the space in the corner surrounded by the old posters and reels was finally something that was all his. He might not have a house, or his dog, or Jellybean anymore, but at least he has the Twilight.

“Okay.”

Jughead has to blink and replay the sound in his head to be sure he heard correctly.

“Okay?”

“I’ll leave,” Jason says simply. “I’ll be waiting outside when the credits roll.”

He moves to brush past Jughead and pauses, too close for acquaintances. The look on his face is like his signature smirk, but softer, with brighter eyes. He reaches up and adjusts Jughead’s hat, tucking a piece of hair into it, the action too tender and too intimate for Jughead to understand coming from Jason. His hand barely brushes Jughead’s cheek as he brings it down, and when he leaves Jughead has to remember what he’s doing and how to breathe.

He doesn’t understand what just happened, but it doesn’t fit with his previous perceptions of Jason, and he thinks maybe he’s been wrong this entire time.

 

**-/-**

 

Summer in Riverdale is lazy and warm, like a cat stretching out in a patch of sun in a window. Jughead passes his days at the Twilight, Pop’s, or a park bench where he can breathe in the fresh air and hear the birds. Sometimes, as he’s sitting there, he’ll see Kevin, or someone else from school walk past. Sometimes they wave. Sometimes they don’t notice him.

A few times he sees Archie. Archie never sees him. Jughead tries to remind himself that Archie is the most oblivious human being on the planet, and that it’s his own fault for not calling out and making his presence known, but it still stings and it still makes him feel like an abandoned toy left out in the rain and forgotten.

He considers texting Betty a few times, far away from this shit town in New York following her dream, but he doesn’t want to bother her with meaningless small talk that she’s too polite to ignore when she has so many other things she could be doing. She deserves to not just be a distraction from his own loneliness.

More often than not, he ends up spending time with Jason. Time passes quickly with him. Jughead finds himself wishing it was stretching on just a little longer.

 

**-/-**

 

A week after the showing of _The Wizard of Oz_ , Jason brings Jughead to his house for the first time. It’s weird, sneaking in through the front door and not having to be quiet because the house is too big for Jason’s parents to hear them. The estate itself seems too big for a family of four, even when they have personalities as large as they do. The trees are huge and green and probably block a lot of the light during the day, and the graveyard looks eerily dead, shadows playing off of the graves in a way that makes the story-teller in Jughead want to believe in actual ghosts.

The inside is ornate and gothic and excessive in a way that isn’t attempting to be creepy, but still is. Jughead is trying not to appear impressed, but judging by the way Jason smirks as he leads him through the house with a hand around his wrist, he isn’t successful. This is a house he could easily get lost in, and part of him doesn’t mind the prolonged contact because of it.

There is an outdoor pool connected to the house, and there’s an indoor pool with a hot tub right next to it, because this is the kind of excessive thing bored rich people would have in their houses. Jason takes him to the outdoor one before anywhere else in the house because he’s a fucking cliche.

He immediately starts stripping, and Jughead has a moment of panic where he thinks they’re going to get naked, but Jason keeps his boxers on and cannon-balls into the pool. When he resurfaces, he smirks and shakes excess water droplets out of his hair like a wet dog, or any other teenage boy.

“Dive in, Forsythe. The water’s warm,” he calls. Jughead considers for a moment, then begins to take off his many layers. It’s unnerving, and he feels like he’s laying himself too bare. While pulling his shirt over his head, he realizes that the last person to see this much of his skin was Archie and Fred, when they filled up water balloons and and sprayed each other with the hose last summer and Fred brought out hot dogs and burgers that could be topped only by Pop’s.

He jumps in as soon as his pants are off, feeling better with the water covering him like a blanket. Jason swims over as Jughead is wiping his eyes and splashes him. Jughead yells, and chases after him, and they spend some time splashing and dunking and rough-housing like kids.

At that moment, Jughead forgets that they aren’t quite friends, that he’s hungry and doesn't have a proper bed that his real “friends” don’t actually talk to him and that Jason has a reputation for not genuinely caring for anyone except his sister.

When they take a breather, Jason swims over to Jughead and crowds him against the edge of the pool. Immediately Jughead remembers exactly who he’s dealing with and exactly what they’ve been doing together, but Jason just reaches one hand up and cards it through his hair.

“It’s nice seeing you without the beanie, even if you look like a wet dog.”

Jughead laughs, and it feels easy. Effortless. Natural, in a way not a lot of his laughs have recently.

“You sure know how to charm a guy,” he says, and Jason grins back at him, then Jughead takes the opportunity to dunk him and they’re both laughing and splashing and chasing each other again.

The next time they pause, Jason looks at him and simply says “Stay.”

Jughead holds eye contact for as long as he can, then looks down to his wrinkled fingers and nods.

 

**-/-**

 

Jason’s room is more bare than Jughead was expecting. The walls are suspiciously clean, cream colored and without posters or pictures hung up, with the exception of a painting of a bluebird that looks as if it belongs in a hotel room, rather than that of a teenage boy.

“Full offense, Flower Power, but your room has no personality,” Jughead says and he stands by the (probably antique and very expensive) dresser, trying to towel dry his hair. Jason sticks his head out of the adjoining bathroom with a toothbrush in his mouth and shrugs.

“My parents won’t let me change it,” he says through a mouth full of foam before disappearing back inside. Jughead hears the sound of spitting, then a running sink. Jason reemerges with a dazzling white smile that probably is a result of extra payments at the dentist’s office for artificial whiteners.

“I have a room on the other side that actually looks how a bedroom should, but it’s only got a couch.”

Jughead hums in response, looking at the intricate carvings on the footboard of the bed. Part of him is wondering why he didn’t take the opportunity to run while Jason was distracted in the bathroom, and part of him is wondering why he even agreed to this in the first place.

The Twilight projector booth has no air conditioning, just a lot of insulation and a plan in case reels need to be moved on the very rare occasion that the outside weather is too much for them, and his tiny cot has been creaking more than usual and may not last much longer. Jason has a king sized bed, with probably only the fluffiest pillows and an insane thread count on the sheets. The room is pleasantly cool, and he’ll probably get breakfast tomorrow. There will be no Serpents making noise all through the night, or lighting things on fire. He repeats these facts to himself to tamper down the growing anxiety over staying in an unfamiliar place, with a person he still doesn’t really know what to think of.

“Forsythe.”

Judging by the way he’s looking at him, Jason may have said his name more than once before he noticed.

“What keeps you up at night?” he asks, reaching up to trace the dark circles under Jughead’s eyes. Jughead almost flinches back, but forces himself to stop.

“The demon that lives under the projector booth of the Twilight. He’s an asshole.”

Jason pulls back and claps his hands twice. “Clothes off. Only naked people are allowed to sleep in my bed.”

“Uh, _no_ ,” Jughead says, incredulous. Jason has already managed to strip down to his boxers again. Jughead is borrowing a pair of his, since his other ones got soaked in the pool. It’s a weirdly intimate thing, to be wearing someone else’s underwear.

“You don’t have anything to be ashamed of. I’d know, in case you don’t remember,” he smirks, but he hasn’t taken his boxers off yet and that’s something positive, at least.

“I do remember, but I am very asexual and refuse to undress in front of you or sleep exposed. The underwear stays on or I leave.” Jason just looks at him for a silent moment, and Jughead wonders if this is where all of his previous conceptions of Jason will be proven right and he discovers that all of the supposedly sweet moments from before were just a result of good acting.

“Everything makes more sense now,” Jason says. “I should’ve guessed you’re ace.”

Jughead feels unnecessarily pleased that he doesn’t have to explain what “asexual” means to Jason when he had to do so for both Archie and Betty, the only two other people he explicitly told.

“I _guess_ the underwear can stay on,” Jason sighs, making it sound like he’s auditioning for the role of World’s Biggest Drama Queen. Jughead smiles secretly to himself, then follows Jason when he gets under the covers. There’s enough space between them that Jughead thinks he might actually be able to survive sleeping like this, that the sheets or presence of another person aren’t going to strangle him in his sleep.

Jason turns off the lights using the switch conveniently located by the bed. The moon still shines enough light through that Jughead can barely see the glint of Jason’s eyes as they lay open, staring back at him.

“Are you still gonna let me get you off now that I know you’re ace?” he asks.

“Sometimes, if you ask nicely,” he replies. Jughead doesn’t know why Jason keeps wanting to when he never reciprocates, but some people are enigmas and Jason is definitely one of them.

He nods once, pleased. Jughead can see his eyes move in the moonbeam. Then, he turns on his stomach and closes his eyes.

“Sweet dreams, Forsythe.”

 

**-/-**

 

“So,” Cheryl says, tone clipped. Jughead jumps and is thankful that he didn’t burn himself on the skillet. He glances at her over his shoulder and continues flipping the pancakes (blueberry, not chocolate chip, because chocolate chip would remind him too much of Archie).

“Yes?” he asks, when it becomes apparent that she doesn’t want to speak without his attention but also that he isn’t going to fully give it to her while he’s cooking.

“You’re the one who’s been taking up all of Jason’s time. He never told me his tastes could be more… masculine.” She says it the same way she’d say _cow shit baking in the sun_.

“That’s something you should take up with him, not me,” he says. And then, because he’s feeling nice and also a bit smug, he says “Pancake?” He can feel Cheryl’s sneer, just as potent as one of Jason’s smirks.

“Hey sis,” Jason calls, and Jughead doesn’t jump because his voice is warm and deep and saturated in dreams from the night before.

“Jason--” Cheryl tries, but he walks right past her and slips an arm around Jughead’s waist, hand warm through the thin fabric of the shirt he had thrown on.

“Pancakes? Smells good, Forsythe.” And then, because he’s an asshole and wants to claim Jughead like a lion marking his territory, he presses his lips against Jughead’s cheek. It’s a lot of physical contact at one time, but when Jughead woke up that morning he was happy to find that they were on complete opposite sides of the bed, so he indulges him.

“Jason, I can’t believe--”

“If you’re so jealous,” he says, cutting her off for the second time in as many minutes, “go call Josie.”

There’s a staredown, and Jughead tries to keep pouring and flipping pancakes while being distinctly aware that all of the tension is for some reason focused on him.

The Blossom Twin Staredown ends with Cheryl turning away in a huff, and Jughead isn’t sure what that means for him. He thought the Blossom twins were part of the same hive mind and never disagreed on anything.

Jason doesn’t move away, just plasters his half-naked body against Jughead and tilts his head in order to plant kisses against his neck. Jughead has to break out of his hold in order to reach for the bowl with the pancake batter, and Jason grumbles. Jughead lets a smile quirk up, and then Jason is kissing his neck again and Jughead is laughing because “Dude you’re gonna make me mess up and spill” and Jason is smiling against him and rubbing a circle on Jughead’s side with his thumb.

Jughead manages to finish the pancakes and put them in the oven to stay warm before actually having to turn around and face Jason. The sunlight that has managed to infiltrate the surrounding trees and stream through the windows makes his hair look like fire and his smile soft. Jughead lets him give him a hickey, then a blowjob in the kitchen. He doesn’t even remember to feel grossed out because Jason hasn’t brushed his teeth yet until he’s halfway through his third pancake.

 

**-/-**

 

The next time he goes to Pop’s, he doesn’t get a bill. He goes up to the register to ask for one, and Pop himself comes out of the back room to talk to him. Jughead is gripped with the fear that he’s going to be kicked out because his father is a Serpent, or that somehow word of his homelessness has gotten to Pop and the man has decided to do something about it.

“Didn’t he tell you? The Blossom boy covered it,” Pop says.

“What?” Jughead asks.

“He came in yesterday and paid your tab, then gave us $500 to go towards your next purchases.”

Jughead furrows his brows, thanks Pop in a daze, and exits the diner.

He doesn’t want to be a charity case for anyone, but he feels as if Jason would protest were he to bring it up. Besides, who is he to pass up $500 worth of free food?

Still, it makes him wonder just why Jason did it, and why someone like him as taken so much interest in someone like Jughead.

 

**-/-**

 

Jughead’s phone chimes, and he knows who the message was from before he even looks at it. Only one person bothers to text him these days, and that person does it a lot more often than Jughead anticipated.

From **Flower Power** : _meet me behind pops tonight. we’re going for a drive_

Jughead doesn’t bother to respond, because there’s no movie at the Twilight so he has nothing better to do. Jason always calls for him on his nights off. He probably has the schedule written down somewhere so Jughead can’t use work as an excuse. He always ends up showing up when Jason bids him to. It’s not even unwillingly anymore.

He tells himself that it’s because Jason is interesting, and that interesting people are their own special kind of addiction for writers like him, but he’s not approaching the situation from a writer’s standpoint anymore. Any questions that he asks Jason are less because Jason is a cookie-cutter character from a noir novel and more because he just genuinely wants to know and is interested in Jason as a person.

The truth is, Jason is the closest friend that he has right now. And sometimes, if the lighting is right and Jughead catches Jason staring at him out of the corner of his eye, he thinks that Jason might just genuinely like him, too. This whole time, Jughead has been trying to convince himself that at some point, there other shoe is going to drop. Now he’s wondering if he’s really been convincing himself the opposite.

 

**-/-**

 

Jason takes them out into the countryside, just to drive 100 miles an hour with the top down, blasting 80s music that can’t be heard over the wind roaring in their ears. After around 20 minutes of that, where he takes some curves a lot faster than he should and Jughead grips the door to keep himself from unravelling even while he laughing, they slow down and eventually park at the river.

“What is it with you and the river? Somehow we always end up here,” Jughead says when he gets out. Jason stands at the bank and stares into the trees opposite.

“It’s a way out, Forsythe. All you have to do is cross it and you’ve left Riverdale for the rest of the world. So long, small town, hello _life_.”

“You can leave, you know. You have the means,” Jughead says. “Just hop on a train. What’s stopping you?” Jason stares at him for a long time before turning back to look at the opposite shore as well as he can in the dark light.

“Lots of things. My parents would never let me go. Cheryl would be miserable here alone. You.”

“Me?” Jughead asks. Maybe he heard wrong, but as soon as the thought crosses his mind he knows that it’s a lie. The night is too still, and Jason’s voice breaks through it like a gunshot in the woods.

“Sometimes I think you’re the only thing keeping me here.”

Jughead doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. The silence stretches out before them and is swallowed by the last rays of sun as it sinks below the horizon. At some point, they both sit down, and Jughead lets Jason lean on his shoulder. This fragile side of him is a terrifying change from the Jason he thought he knew, another layer to add to his collection, and the openness scares him. He seems breakable, and Jughead doesn't want him to shatter.

“Come home with me tonight,” Jason whispers. “Just to sleep. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning.”

His words are almost pleading, and laced with something resembling melancholy. Jughead says yes.

 

**-/-**

 

Jughead wakes up at an unknown hour during the night. Jason’s hand has managed to creep over and touch him on the shoulder, which should be impossible for a king sized bed. Jughead gently moves out from under it, but touches their fingertips together as a compromise.

 

**-/-**

 

The next morning, everything is back as it should be. Jason is smirking and flicking blueberries at him when Jughead isn’t giving him enough attention, and Cheryl is sniping but still taking a pancake when Jason offers with a particular fondness reserved only for his sister. It seems as if yesterday’s mood was a hallucination that Jughead thought up, but there is still something unreadable hiding behind Jason’s eyes when he looks at him.

 

**-/-**

 

Jughead finds himself sleeping at the Blossom mansion almost more often than he sleeps at the Twilight. The moment he realizes that he’s used to it and knows where everything is in Jason’s room, he panics and refuses to see Jason for the first time that summer. He hides in the Twilight booth and reminds himself that the Drive-In is his home, and that soon Jason will drop him for the next shiny thing that catches his attention and Jughead will be on his own again, but there’s no way to truly unlearn familiarity. The next night, he finds his way to the river.

“Have you actually been avoiding me?” Jason frowns, like he can’t believe someone would ever try to do that to him.

“I had some things I needed to sort through,” Jughead says, a partial lie.

“What things?” Jason sneers, and he looks every bit like the Blossom Jughead knew him to be, before this whole thing started.

“Personal things,” he replies. Jason scoffs.

“Alright then.” He throws a rock into the river harder than usual. It splashes, and Jughead watches the ripples move outward. He didn’t expect Jason to be this upset, but he’s sulking like a child.

“Jason,” he says, and it takes a couple repeats of the name before he turns.

“I honestly did just have some things I needed to sort through. I needed a night to myself. It’s nothing against you.” Jason keeps up his glare for a few more seconds before deflating.

“It’s been a rough few days,” he grumbles, then continues to throw rocks into the river. Jughead joins him, and lets Jason gradually move closer and throw an arm around his waist. His hand moves lower, and he noses around the spot on Jughead’s neck that is kind of ticklish but feels good when kissed. When he whispers _please_ , Jughead says nods.

 

**-/-**

 

They go back to Jason’s house afterwards, only they have to enter through the back this time. Regardless, Cheryl meets them there and grabs Jughead’s wrist.

“Hey--”

“Shut _up_ ,” she hisses. “Mom and Dad are pissed and would not respond well to you being here.”

“Jason, is that you?” a voice shouts, and Jason stiffens.

“Get him to my room,” Jason whispers, then calls, “Who else would it be? Didn’t you spend thousands of dollars on a security system for this place?” and heads down the hall. Cheryl tugs Jughead in the opposite direction, and leads him on a winding maze through the rest of the house until they get to Jason’s room.

“Stay here and leave before breakfast,” she commands. She turns to leave, then stops and turns back around.

“Jason really likes you, Jughead. I don’t know why, but he does,” she says.

“Okay?” he asks after a moment, unsure what the exact significance of this piece of information is, or what he’s supposed to do with it.

“Don’t mess things up for him,” she says, and Jughead frowns. When he opens his mouth to respond, she cuts him off. “No, don’t try to say that you won’t, or that he’s a spoiled rich boy and everything will work out for him anyway. He likes you and that gives you so much leverage. If you do anything, _anything_ to hurt him, I will personally dig my stiletto heel into your eye. You like him too, I can see it when you’re together, but when it comes to Jason that’s not enough.”

She walks out without pausing, and Jughead sits on the bed, trying to decipher everything that Cheryl just said. None of it makes sense. Even if Jason does like him as much as Cheryl claimed, Jughead doesn’t plan on doing anything as drastic as breaking his heart and dancing on the remains. It’s a bit disturbing to think that someone likes him enough in that way for him to have that ability.

He doesn’t plan on leaving Jason at all, actually.

Jughead is reminded of that moment at the river when Jason said that sometimes he was the only thing keeping him here. It had seemed absurd, but…

There isn’t really anything firmly tying Jughead to Riverdale anymore, either. His mother and sister are gone. His best friend since childhood no longer seems interested in being best friends. He’s barely surviving on food from a diner every day and he doesn’t have an actual house to live in, just a projector booth with a camping cot.

He’s never really thought about leaving, because people don’t just leave Riverdale. Small towns like this are inescapable in their own way. But if he did think about it, maybe one of the reasons he would stay would be because Jason is staying.

When Jason finally enters the room, he looks infinitely more tired than he did at the river, and he slams the door harder than necessary.

“I hate them,” he spits. “I hate them.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jughead asks.

“No,” Jason says, flopping face first onto the bed. “I just want to lie here and listen to you talk about Tarantino films or something while I seeth.”

Jughead can understand that, so he launches into a deep analysis of the artistic choices in _Pulp Fiction_ and says whatever comes to mind just to keep a steady stream of noise going. Jason is still holding tension in his shoulders, so after a moment of indecision, Jughead slips a hand into his hair and starts combing through it. The result is almost instantaneous. Jason lets out a breath and goes slack, and Jughead’s mouth quirks up as he talks. By the time he has moved on to _Inglorious Bastards_ , Jason’s breathing has evened out, and he’s asleep. Jughead brushes his teeth, takes off his shoes, switches his jeans for a pair of pajama pants, and turns out the light. Jason is sprawled like a starfish in the middle of the bed, so Jughead curls up next to him and tries to use the steady rhythm of his breathing to lull him to sleep, like he used to do when he and Archie still had sleepovers.

 

**-/-**

 

When he wakes up the next morning, he has a moment of blind panic where he thinks he’s suffocating, but it’s just Jason. Sometime in the night, probably in search of warmth because neither of them got under the covers, Jason curled around him. Jughead quietly detangles himself, puts on his shoes, and sneaks out of the house. Dawn has just started to break, which makes it easy. Once he’s clear of the house, he pulls out his phone and sends a text.

To **Flower Power** : _sorry i left. I didnt want to risk your parents seeing me_

As he keeps moving towards Pop’s, he hopes Jason doesn’t miss him when he wakes up.

 

**-/-**

 

“Tell me a secret, Forsythe.”

They’re sprawled out on the lawn of the Blossom estate, out of sight of any windows. Jughead has his back against a tree and a book in his hand, but he hasn’t gotten much reading done because Jason is using his thigh as a pillow. His ginger hair is soft under his fingertips. Jason picks at a piece of grass and balances it on Jughead’s knee.

“What kind of secret?” Jughead asks. Jason makes a motion that could be considered shrugging.

“A true one. One that no one else knows.” A bird flies overhead, chirping. Jughead takes a deep breath.

“I’m homeless. I’ve been living at the Drive-In and sneaking into the school locker room to shower.”

There’s a pause, and Jughead braces himself. Maybe this is where Jason kicks him out, pushes him away and demands never to see him again. Jason is rich, and Jughead is living paycheck to paycheck without a home to call his own.

“I know,” Jason says.

“You what?”

Jason sits up and turns to face him.

“I’ve known since I visited you in the projector booth that one time. You have a bed set up in there. Besides, it’s not hard to figure out. You smell like the soap from the showers at school. I’ve never actually been to your house. You’re always either at the Drive-In or at Pop’s, and when you stay for the night you never tell anyone to be sure that they don’t worry.”

“No one else has figured it out,” Jughead says. He feels dizzy. Of all the people to already know, it’s Jason Blossom, and Jason has known since that night at the Drive-In.

“No one else is paying you the attention you deserve.” Then Jason is leaning in, and Jughead is being kissed.

Kissing is weird. It’s just the press of two people’s skin against each other, and yet there’s so much emotion surrounding the action. Logically, there shouldn’t be anything special about two people’s lips touching. If anything, it’s really odd and kind of gross, especially once tongues get involved. But Jason’s hand is warm where it’s resting on his thigh, and there’s something intimate about having their faces close enough for their noses to touch and Jughead to be unable to focus on anything unless he closes his eyes.

The kiss lasts for a second, and then Jason pulls back and it’s over. He looks at Jughead and cringes, and Jughead wonders what kind of expression he’s wearing to evoke that reaction.

That was Jughead’s first kiss. In all of their fooling around, Jason’s lips had never ended up actually meeting his.

“Is kissing off-limits?” Jason asks. Jughead blinks, then stiffly shakes his head. It feels like his neck is bolted in place. Jason smirks his signature Blossom smirk.

“Good,” he says, and then Jughead is being kissed again, except this one is much more forceful and overwhelming. Jason pushes him back against the tree trunk, lips moving and demanding, and Jughead forces himself to relax and go along with it. Jason pries his lips open and suddenly there’s a tongue in his mouth, and Jason’s hands seem to be everywhere: his neck, his side, his shoulders, the back of his head. Jughead thinks his hat gets dislodged. The feeling of someone else’s tongue in his mouth is weird and disconcerting and the kisses are wet and noisy but then Jason does something with the angle of the kiss and flicks his tongue just so and _oh_. Jughead might be able to see why people enjoy this so much, if moments like that happen. He grabs on to Jason’s shirt, because it’s a lot and he needs something to hold on to.

When Jason pulls away, Jughead is gasping for air and slightly shaky.

“Shh, take some breaths, Forsythe,” Jason soothes while huffing a laugh. Jughead hates that his body still responds to stuff like this, that he can be so thrown-off over the mouths of two human beings touching, but he rests his forehead on Jason’s shoulder anyway.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Jason says, after the silence has stretched out long enough for Jughead to get his breath back and slow his heartbeat down.

“Why didn’t you?” Jughead asks. Jason smirks, and the expression is familiar. It grounds him.

“It can be hard to kiss someone you’ve never talked to when that someone never goes to house parties,” he says. Jughead tries to figure out the implications of that sentence, but Jason stands and offers him a hand, then challenges him to a race to the pool like they’re five year olds. Jughead runs after him and smiles.

 

**-/-**

 

“What are you doing for the Fourth of July?” Jason asks one evening, when they’re trying to skip rocks down at the river again.

“I’m going on a roadtrip, actually,” he says. Jason raises his eyebrows and skips another rock. “It’s with Archie. We’ve been planning this since we were kids. I confirmed it with him yesterday.”

It had been his first time actually talking to Archie for the whole summer. It was nice, and Archie’s laugh was a familiar sound Jughead hadn’t realized he’s been missing so much until he heard it again. At the same time, though, it felt empty. They didn’t have a lot to talk about. There was only so much that Archie could say about construction before he flitted away from the topic, and there was only so much Jughead could say about the Drive-In.

He still hasn’t told anyone about Jason. For some reason, the thought of telling Archie that he’s been spending his summers with a him makes his stomach twist.

“Why do you ask?” he asks, flicking a stone out onto the water. It skips 4 times before sinking, and Jason lets out a low whistle.

“Just curious,” Jason says.

“What are you doing for the Fourth of July?” Jughead asks.

“Who knows?” Jason says, but his voice sounds pinched. Jughead faces him fully, but Jason looks as relaxed as usual. “Cheryl and I will probably go for a drive, just relax and take it easy.”

Jughead nods. Jason skips another stone, then looks down at his hands.

“How long will the roadtrip be?” he asks.

“Either 4 days or 7. We’re between two different routes right now.” Jason nods, but still doesn’t look at him.

“Hey,” Jughead says, stepping closer. “It’s not that long, I’m sure you’ll survive without me.” Jason looks up at him, and there’s something in his face that Jughead can’t read. It makes him cross fully towards him.

“Are you okay?” Jughead asks. Without replying, Jason smirks and leans in to kiss him. It’s hard enough that Jughead has to grab onto him to keep his balance. Arms wind around his back, holding him steady, and Jason presses closer. Jughead feels like he’s purposefully being distracted, but warm hands are creeping under his shirt now, and if Jason doesn’t want to talk about it, then Jughead isn’t going to make him. His thumbs dig into the divots of his hipbones, and Jughead racks his nails across Jason’s scalp, causing the other boy to moan. The sound is lost against his mouth.

The river laps at the bank. They don’t part for a long time.

 

**-/-**

 

“Do you ever get to watch movies from outside the projector booth?” Jason asks the next day, driving aimlessly into the countryside.

“The projector booth is the best place to watch them,” Jughead says, sucking on one of the lifesavers he got from the glove compartment. Jason is running low on them, and it’s mostly Jughead’s fault.

“But I’m not allowed in the projector booth,” Jason says, and _oh_.

Ever since Jason started talking to him, Jughead has had a lot more “ _oh_ ” moments.

“Do you want to watch a movie with me?” he asks. Jason shrugs.

“I have a nice TV and a good movie collection,” he says.

“Do you have _Holes_?” he asks.

“ _Holes_? Like, with Shia LaBeouf and the “I can fix that” subplot?” Jason asks.

“I haven’t seen it in a while,” Jughead says. “It’s a cinematic masterpiece and I miss it.”

Jason is smiling softly. He rolls his eyes once he knows Jughead is watching, the diva.

“Yes, Forsythe, we do have _Holes_. Only an idiot would say they have a good movie collection if it doesn’t include _Holes_.”

“Then we should watch it,” he says.

When they get back to the house, Jason microwaves some popcorn and they position themselves in front of the TV with the lights off. Within the first five minutes, Jughead has already made enough comments that Jason laughs and says that maybe it’s a good thing that he’s confined to the projector booth all the time if he’s this talkative during movies. Jughead throws a piece of popcorn at him and Jason slips his arm around him and kisses his cheek.

“Is this a date?” Jughead blurts suddenly, because he may not really do romance, but this looks suspiciously like a scene from a chick flick.

“If this is a date, then we’ve been dating for quite a while without you noticing,” Jason says.

Jughead doesn’t know what to think. He’s still not sure if he actually harbors romantic feelings at all. What if he’s been dating Jason Blossom this whole time without realizing it?

“You’re thinking _so loud_ ,” Jason complains, leaning over and pressing a quick kiss to his lips before moving down to nip at his jaw and press Jughead into the carpet.

“The movie,” Jughead protests weakly, but they can always rewind it, so he lets Jason continue. It’s hard to overthink when a bruise is getting sucked into his neck.

 

**-/-**

 

“What do you want to do after high school?” Jughead asks one day. They’re at the river again, sitting on the hood of Jason’s car while Jughead starts to eat a new bag of lifesavers and Jason pretends that he’s not seconds away from falling asleep. Jughead doesn’t think he’s been sleeping very well. Last night, Jughead actually fell asleep first, and when he woke up Jason was gone.

“Hm?” Jason hums, sitting up a bit more. “Go to college as far from here as I can get.”

“For what?” Jughead asks. Jason looks out at the river and scrunches his eyebrows.

“Maybe business. I think I could be good at it.”

Jughead considers him for a moment.

“I think you could, too. Is that what you want to do though?”

“Don’t psychoanalyse me,” Jason sneers.

“You’re getting defensive,” Jughead says.

“Well what do you want to do?” he asks, jumping off of the car. Jughead sighs.

“I want to write,” he replies, getting to his feet as well.

“What do you have to write about?” Jason asks. Jughead crosses to him and nudges him with his shoulder.

“Maybe my first book will be about you. You’ll just have to wait and see.” Jason’s frown softens, and Jughead counts it as a good sign.

“Full of descriptions of my devilish good looks, I assume,” he says, and now Jughead relaxes, because whatever stink Jason had snapped into over plans for the future seems to have been let go, for now at least.

“I doubt it,” Jughead says.

“But you didn’t deny that my looks are devilishly good,” he responds, wrapping an arm around Jughead and smirking. Jughead has to lean back a bit to look at him properly.

“Well, I’m ace, not blind,” Jughead says. “Your face is symmetrical and your hair looks good with your eyes. Those are just observations. I can tell when someone is conventionally attractive.”

“So observant all the time,” Jason says. “The mark of a good writer.” Then he kisses Jughead. It’s slow, and Jughead doesn’t feel pressured to go further, which is unusual with Jason’s kisses.

“Hey,” Jughead says after a moment. “I’m hungry. Let’s go to Pop’s. I want fries and a milkshake.”

Jason nods with what almost looks like a smile, and he doesn’t even judge Jughead when he dips his fries in the milkshake.

 

**-/-**

 

On July 2nd, Jughead sleeps over at the Blossom mansion for the last time. Jason had been acting off all week, more tactile than usual, less talking, and even less sleeping. There are bags under his eyes and Jughead once traced with his finger before softly telling him to go to sleep.

That night, before Jughead even has a chance to switch into pajama pants, Jason has him pressed against the door and is kissing him senseless. It’s the kind of kissing that Jughead kind of likes, so he goes along with it, even when Jason’s hands find their way under his shirt and up to his ribcage. Except they keep going, and when Jason steps back for a breath of air he gets Jughead’s shirt up over his head. His hat goes with it.

“Jason--” he says, but he’s cut off with a kiss until he pushes Jason away.

“ _Please_ ,” Jason says, and it’s the most desperate Jughead has ever heard him. The force of it scares him. “Please, Jughead. I need--I need--” He kisses him again, harder and more demanding than before. Jughead doesn’t know what to do. Jason has him backed against the door, and he has nowhere to escape to.

“I want to fuck you,” Jason says when he backs away enough for Jughead to get a breath in. He freezes.

“You what?” he says, voice cracking.

“I want to fuck you. Please Jughead.” Then he kisses him again, and runs his tongue over a sensitive spot on Jughead’s neck, and bites his shoulder.

“I’m not--I don’t--” Jughead hates that the words aren’t coming. They’re usually the only thing he can rely on. “I’m not ready.” Jughead weakly pushes at him, but the other boy doesn’t let up.

“Just this once,” he says, scraping his teeth up to a spot behind Jughead’s jaw. “Just once and I’ll never ask you again. Please, Jughead, I need it.” He grinds up against him, and Jughead hates how his body automatically responds without him wanting it to. He’s getting dizzy. He doesn’t think he can do this, but he also doesn’t think he can get away.

When Jason finally meets his eyes again, he looks like a disaster. He looks haunted. He looks like this is his last night on earth and Jughead is the only thing that can save him. His hands are iron grips on his hips, and when he kisses Jughead again and shoves his tongue into his mouth, Jughead doesn’t even try to push him away. What Jason Blossom wants, Jason Blossom gets.

It hurts. It hurts so much that Jughead wonders why anyone would ever do this willingly. Tears stream down his face at one point, but at least Jason is wearing a condom and at least he has lube and at least he keeps telling Jughead that he’s doing good and rubbing what are probably supposed to be soothing circles against his thighs with his thumbs.

“Never again,” Jughead says horsley once it’s done. He doesn’t bother to try and put clothes on. He’s sore all over and too tired to move.

“Never again,” Jason agrees from the other side of the bed, and Jughead wonders if he actually means it. “Thank you. You really were great.”

Jughead nods choppily and squeezes his eyes shut, willing Jason to just shut up and let him sleep. Before he drifts off, an arm finds its way around his waist, pulling him closer.

 

**-/-**

 

The next day, things proceed as normal, as if the previous night never happened. The only indication is how sore Jughead is, but otherwise it’s as if nothing has changed. He makes himself smile and laugh at all the right times, and he tries not to flinch away when Jason touches him. He doesn’t cover it good enough, because eventually Jason backs off a bit.

Jason’s hair still looks like fire in the right lighting. They go for a drive to the river, because that’s what they always do. That night, Jason drops him off at the Drive-In. Archie is meeting him early for the roadtrip, and Jason says that Cheryl likes early-morning drives the best, so they part ways there, under the stars.

“I’m going to miss you, Forsythe.”

“It’s four days,” Jughead says, rolling his eyes. “It’s really not that long.”

“It’s going to feel like longer,” Jason says. Then, he takes a step forward. Jughead inhales sharply through his nose, but all Jason does is hold his hand and give him a kiss on the cheek.

“I hope you and Archie make up,” he says when he steps away, towards his car.

“Thanks,” he says. “See you later, Jason.”

“Yeah,” Jason says, nodding. “See you.”

He drives off, and Jughead watches until he’s out of sight before digging out his key for the projector booth and heading inside.

 

**-/-**

 

The next day, at 5:23 am, Jughead gets a text.

From **Flower Power** : _Have fun on your road trip. ill miss you. think of me sometime._

There is a single heart emoji after the words. Jughead frowns, because sappy things aren’t something that he and Jason ever do, but he’s been acting weird for the past few days. Hopefully it’ll be better when Jughead gets back.

Archie doesn’t show. Jughead wants to be surprised, but he isn’t.

 

**-/-**

 

When Jughead hears about the disappearance of Jason Blossom, he’s sitting in Pop’s and overhears the cook talking to a waitress. He leaves immediately, and runs all the way to the Blossom mansion. Even which his lungs heaving for air, he feels like he’s not going fast enough. He knows how to get in from weeks of sneaking around with Jason, and he knows where Cheryl’s room is from the three tours he got of the place. He enters without knocking, and thankfully she’s the only one there. Her makeup has all been washed away. Her eyes are red. Jughead gets a vision of a renaissance painting in his head, with Cheryl as the heartbroken focus in her white dress with her tangled red hair. He knows from just one look at her that what he heard in the diner was true.

“Cheryl, what happened? Where is he?”

She shakes her head and starts crying again. He feels like he swallowed nails, and stumbles out of the house.

He goes to the river, because it’s always the river with Jason, but it holds no answers, either.

Jughead doesn’t cry. He sits there, staring over the water until darkness falls, and then he goes back to the Drive-In.

The next day, he sits down at Pop’s and begins to write.

**Author's Note:**

> There we go. My longest fic (to date) and it's for a fandom I'm not even part of. I hope you guys liked it! Kudos and comments are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!


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